“Too bad for Lin,” I reply, thinking about her. She's smart, a Harvard grad, in fact. “She'll get one soon, I'm sure.”
“She will. I already spoke with her about it yesterday evening, right before she left for the night. She says she's cool with it, but that she's going to be shooting hard for the next slot that opens up.” Jackie takes out another piece of paper and slides it over. “So are you going to sign or not?”
I look at the paper, which is a simple memorandum that says I am accepting the job and outlines my new compensation scheme. “Hey, it says that I'm losing my client portfolio.”
“Comes with the territory. You're moving to salary plus points based corporate-wide. That's not just investments, but every division.”
“And my guys?” I ask. “Who takes them over?”
Jackie shrugs. “That's up to you, Vice President Dunham. You can divvy out any that you want, or you can keep some. If I were you, I'd go through your client list with a fine-toothed comb and pick out only the ones that have real meaning to you. You're going to be too busy otherwise, and you'll start dropping balls. Besides, it's a nice way to let some of those folks underneath you get a bit of a boost.”
I nod, remembering the few clients that Jackie did prime my portfolio with, then look over gratefully. “Thank you, Jackie.”
“Don't thank me. Remember what I told you last week,” Jackie says, turning away and dismissing me with a glance. “But you're welcome.”
I go back to my office and sit down, looking at the new business card. The word spreads quickly, and I get a constant line of people who come by to offer their congratulations, including Lin, who I thank personally for her understanding.
When Lin leaves, I make my way to the executive washroom and pull out my phone and dial the one person I’m itching to tell. Might as well start using my perks now.
“Cory?” Patricia asks, and she sounds less happy to hear me than I thought.
“Hey, Patricia. How're you doing?”
“Busy, what's up?” she asks slightly brusquely, and I feel a little bit of air come out of my day. Seriously, she sounds like she doesn't want to talk right now.
“Ah, nothing, I guess. Just . . . I got a promotion at work. They tagged me to take my new boss’s old slot. I guess it's not that important.”
Patricia stops whatever she's doing on the other end of the line and takes a second to reply. “Actually, that's a great thing, Cory. I'm happy for you. Really.”
“Thanks. Uhm, maybe we can talk tonight? I mean, you do sound busy.”
“I'd appreciate that. But I might not be available. I haven't been feeling well the past couple of days. Headache, and I feel something's just a bit . . . off.”
I stop, concerned. “Really? Do you need me to come up? I can make it this weekend and return the favor for what you did for me.”
Patricia chuckles lightly, but I can hear in her voice the rejection even before she says it. “I wouldn't want you to get in trouble, Cory. We should probably take a pass. I was thinking of hitting the sack early tonight. Maybe that'll help.”
“Okay, I guess. Well, I'll let you get back to work. Talk to you tonight, Patricia.”
“See you, Cory.”
Patricia hangs up, and I look at my phone for a minute, questions creeping into my mind. Have I waited too long to tell her how I feel? I mean, I've told Patricia how special I think she is, but I still haven't said the three simple words.
I make up my mind. Even if Jackie isn't happy about it, I'm going to fly up to Seattle this weekend and tell Patricia face to face that I love her. I have to lay it out, even if she possibly says it’s too late.
I go to get up when I hear the door to the washroom open, and Dylan's voice comes in. What the hell is he doing? He doesn't have privileges to this washroom. “I'm telling you, Dad, it'll net us millions. Easily.”
Another set of footsteps enters, the door closing behind them. “Will you please shut up in public about this?” Xander says, hissing. “No fucking wonder you're still stuck at the desk you are, Dylan. Can't figure out how to play the fucking game.”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” Dylan whines, and I start to breath shallowly through my mouth, trying to be silent. Whatever these two are discussing, I don't want them knowing I'm here. “Sure, the SEC would shit their pants, but it's not like we haven't done this before, and we've still got plenty of fall people if we get caught.”
Oh hell. I don't move, hoping that neither of the Roberts wants to use the toilet. Thankfully, I hear them both walk toward the urinals and then the splash of at least one of them taking a piss. “Dylan, Jackie Ibrahim is nowhere near the soldier that Bremmington was. Especially with her golden boy now under her.”
“Who, Dunham? He's so obsessed with that bitch he's laying that he's barely focusing at work,” Dylan sneers, and I almost come out of the toilet just to beat his ass right there.
“If he's barely focusing, I'd hate to see what he'd be like if he were really focused then,” Xander verbally slaps his son, sneering. “Because he's kicking the shit out of your numbers. And I'm not talking dollars. I'm talking percentage growth. But if he is distracted, then maybe we can slip this by.”
“That sounds a lot better,” Dylan tells his father, and I hear him slap Xander on the shoulder. “Come on, strange shit happens in biotech all the time. That we can capitalize on it is good luck.”
The two wash their hands and leave the bathroom, and I wait another minute or two before making my exit. Just what the hell were they talking about? Biotech, setting up Jackie or me? Whatever it is, I'm not happy about it, and I know that I need to cover my ass.
As I leave, I see Dylan give a glance toward the executive washroom, and he watches me as I head back to my office. I wait ten minutes, then call Jackie on her office phone. “Jackie Ibrahim.”
“Jackie, it's Cory. I think we need to talk, but I need it to be private,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Jackie hums on her end of the line for a minute before answering. “Okay. Where were you thinking?”
I think, then come up with an idea. “Union Square.”
“Good thinking. Six?”
“Six. I'll meet you in the lobby,” I say. “Thanks, Jackie.”
I hang up my phone and think. Xander Roberts . . . just great.
Union Square is its normal funky mix, and as Jackie and I make our way through, I observe some of the uniqueness that must have touched and worried Patricia, now that I think about it. It took me six months to get used to San Francisco after growing up in the Marine Corps and Silver Lake Falls.
“So you heard them talking something about biotech?” Jackie asks as we round a corner. “And the SEC?”
“Yeah,” I say, stopping at a street vendor and looking at what's available. “And one of us being the fall guy if the SEC catches wind of it.”
“I think she'd like the hat,” Jackie says, changing subjects quickly and pointing to a wool knit cap with flaps on the side. “From the quick look I got of her, anyway.”
“That reminds me. I think I screwed up, Jackie. I haven't said those magic words to her yet.”
“Then get a move on,” Jackie advises me as I take the wrapped up hat and tuck it under my arm. “In the meantime, cover your ass. If Dylan saw you coming out of there, he probably suspects that you overheard him and his father. I'll see what I can do . . . but there isn't much to go on. Go incognito and take a few days to cover your ass. That's my advice.”
“I plan on it.”
Chapter 16
Patricia
I'm sitting in my living room, and I can't ever remember being this scared before. I've tried calling Cory for the past two hours, ever since getting home, but his phone keeps kicking straight to voicemail, and he's not even answering his text messages.
What if he is ditching me? What if . . . what if he wants to just cut and run, like Brad did? It's even worse this time, not because of my age. I'm more financially secure than I've been in my entire
life, and I know if I had to ask, Whit and Troy would help out, but it's worse because I actually love Cory.
When I got pregnant with Whitney, I thought I loved Brad White, but what does one really know at that age?
This is different. Every minute with Cory since we really got together has been a paradise to me, and even just chatting with him on the phone makes the worst days better. A simple text message can bring a smile to my face.
And now he's not returning any of them. I'm pregnant with his baby, and I can't get in touch with him. This isn't something I can send via email either. It's too big.
Finally, I give up and dial a new number. The phone rings in my ear, but this time, it's picked up. “Mom?”
“Oh, Whitney,” I reply, nearly breaking down in tears. “Whitney, I need to talk to you.”
“What’s going on, Mom?” Whitney says, her voice breaking up slightly. “Actually, I was going to surprise you. We're in the a . . . right n . . .”
“Whitney?” I call into the phone before the call comes back in. “You're where?”
“In the air,” Whitney says warmly. “Remember, Troy's playing in Seattle Sunday? He talked with the team, and the three of us are catching an early flight to Seattle so Laurie and I can spend the weekend with you.”
“That's . . . that's great,” I say, my voice catching. “Whitney . . . still, can you talk now?”
“Sure Mo . . . Mom,” Whitney says. “Sorry, the plane's connection isn't great and we're in a thunderstorm. Chicago's going to hate the first game of the season if this keeps . . .”
“Whitney?”
The call comes back in, and it sounds like Whitney's put me on speaker. “There. Mom, I've got Troy with me, and a pissed off flight attendant giving me dirty looks, but I don't really care. What's going on?”
“Honey, I went to the doctor today.”
“What? Did you say doctor?” Whitney asks.
“Yes! The doctor!” I yell, even though I doubt that'll help. Maybe I'm just old fashioned enough to remember when everyone still used landlines and computers weren't running everything. “Doctor Baker!”
“Is everything okay, Patricia?” Troy asks, his voice clear at least.
“Well, I've been feeling strange for a few days, and he ran some tests. Uh, well, Whit . . . you've got a little brother or sister coming soon.”
The silence on the other end makes me worry that they didn't hear me, so I repeat myself. “Whitney? Did you hear? I'm pregnant.”
“Mom, we heard you,” Whitney says, and in her voice, I can hear concern, but at the same time, excitement. “This is so awesome!”
“Awesome?” I ask, momentarily struck dumb. “Did you say awesome?”
“Yes!” Whitney giggles. “Mom, you'll be great. Have you told Cory yet?”
“No . . . I can't get a hold of him,” I reply, my worry coming back. Still, the support in Whitney's voice helps me, and I take a deep breath. “I've been trying, since I got back from the church, but he's not answering.”
“What?” Whitney and Troy both say, and I realize at least part of my message was missed.
“I said that I can't get a hold of Cory!” I yell again, my frustration and upset venting at least a little before I take a deep breath and lower my voice. “After talking to Doc Baker, I went to the church, where I had a blowup with Bill Moss. He kicked me out of the Sunday School program, by the way, but I stormed out, ticked off. Dumping on me with that load of guilt . . . anyway, I get home, and I've been trying to reach Cory, but he's not picking up right now. I was scared, but you guys helped. I just really want Cory to know too, you know?”
There's a bunch of popcorn static again, and a computer squeal, then Whitney's voice coming back, distant like she's talking down a hallway. “Cory kicked what?”
“Huh?” I ask, then realize the static's getting worse. “Not Cory, Bill! I'm out of the church! I just felt that the church abandoned me!”
“Mom, how could he . . .” Whitney says, then there's a big squeal of static, and the call drops permanently. I look at my phone, then shrug. Okay, so there was some miscommunication, but she knows I'm pregnant now, and they're both supportive of it. That helps me a lot. Besides, Whitney will try and call back if she has any questions, or at the latest, when she gets on the ground in Seattle.
I sit back and try Cory's phone again. It kicks over to voicemail immediately, and I leave a message. “Cory, it's Patricia. When you get this . . . please call. There's something very important, and very wonderful, that we need to talk about.”
I hang up and set my phone on the table, lying down on my couch. I yawn and realize that maybe it's because of the pregnancy, maybe the hormone shifts, or maybe just stress, but I'm exhausted. I close my eyes. It's Friday night anyway, and I decide that maybe a little nap before a late dinner would be nice.
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing, and I blink, wondering how long I've been out. It's pitch black outside, so with this being summer, it's definitely after nine o'clock. I must have been out for two hours or more. Rolling up, I hope that it's Cory, but instead, it's Whitney. They must have landed at SeaTac already. “Hello, Whitney?”
“Mom . . . I'm glad we're on the ground. Tell me exactly what happened between you and Cory,” Whitney says, her voice serious and with a hint of anger underneath. “What did he do to you?”
I blink, perplexed. “What do you mean, what did he do? I mean, he got me pregnant, but that part you got.”
“Mom, what about him ditching you?” Whitney asks, and I'm thunderstruck. “You said he abandoned you.”
Oh no. Stupid lightning storms. “Whitney, relax. That was the storm. What I said was that Bill Moss found out, and he kicked me out of the Sunday School program. I quit New Harvest because I felt like the church abandoned me. Not Cory. I've been trying to get ahold of him, but his phone keeps kicking to voicemail. I guess I was a bit panicked about that when I first called you, but it's okay. I'm better now.”
“No . . . oh, shit,” Whitney groans, then takes the phone away to talk. “Laurie, can you go get me a Coke from the shop? Yes, I'm sending you away because I have something I don't want you overhearing. Fine, you can get a chocolate bar too.”
“What's wrong?” I ask, new worry creeping in. “What's happened?”
“Mom, the static screwed up the call. We thought you'd said that Cory abandoned you, that he broke up with you when he heard about the pregnancy. Troy got pissed, and as soon as we landed at SeaTac, he grabbed another flight to San Francisco. I took Laurie with me to come and see you, but Troy's super pissed, Mom. My phone battery was dead after we talked, and I kept trying to get back in touch with you, and my charger was in my luggage. It took me a while to get the cord out. Mom, Troy's headed to San Francisco to kick Cory's ass.”
“Well, call him!” I half-shout. “Kick his ass? Troy could kill him! Cory doesn't even know. I can't get a hold of him yet!”
“Okay. Let me try and call him now. I think his plane's in the air already though. It's just a commuter jet, so there won't be a phone on there, but he'll get the text or something when he lands. Just a minute.”
The call ends, and I stare at my phone, hoping and praying that Whitney's quick enough. Fewer than two minutes later, she calls back, and I hit the pickup button before the first ring even finishes. “Did you get in touch?”
“No,” Whitney says, her voice filled with dread. “Troy's phone was in Laurie's backpack. She'd asked him if she could borrow it to play a game during the flight. She must have put it back in there.”
“So . . . so we can't get in touch with Troy?”
“I don't think so,” Whitney says, groaning. “I'll get our rental. We'll be at your house as soon as we can.”
“Hurry, sweetheart,” I whisper, scared even more than I was when the evening began. Not knowing if Cory wants to be a father is one thing. Knowing that Troy's after him, and Cory doesn't even know . . . that's another.
I start to pray.
&n
bsp; Chapter 17
Cory
It's not until I get home from the office that I notice that my phone is busted. Great, just great. Thinking back, I slap my forehead when I realize what must have happened.
Today was listed in the firm as casual Friday. Specifically, PacFran wanted everyone to dress up in San Francisco Dons gear since the bank is one of the main sponsors of the team. It's even got a ten-foot-tall logo on the inside scoreboard at Golden Gate Field, the largest logo that stays up year-round.
Of course, there's no way I'd wear Dons gear, not with who my bro is. Instead, I came into work wearing an authentic Jacksonville Wildcats home jersey, number fifty-one, Troy Wood. Maybe a few people will get a kick out of it.
Still, with wearing jeans and a jersey instead of a suit, I'd done my normal thing, which was to put my phone in my back pocket. Unfortunately for me, I sat down without taking my phone out of my pocket. I hadn't heard a crack, but now, back at home, I'm looking at a side to side full split and a phone that won't turn on. Gorilla Glass, meet Buns of Steel. Guess I shouldn't have worn my tighter jeans today. But I kept thinking about Patricia and how she'd like me in them, and so on they went before I hopped on my bicycle to ride to work. Thinking about it, I'm lucky I didn't lose my phone from my back pocket on the ride.
I sigh again and set my now broken phone on the counter, upset mostly because I wanted to be able to give Patricia a call. Her boss has kept her busy, and she's not always home until later.
Still, I turn on my home laptop and pull up Skype. Maybe she’ll be on later. In the meantime, I change clothes, wanting to have something to do with all the energy that I have today. Maybe I'm just nervous because of the weird situation involving Dylan and Xander, or maybe it's because of Patricia and her seemingly distant reaction in our phone call yesterday. In any case, I change into my bike shorts and a tank top and go over to my bike again. I don't ride the specialized ten-speed road bike as much as I used to in college, but I still try to get in rides three times a week, usually on the weekends. It's great for the legs, and I love the burn.
Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance Page 13
